


honeybody (what you doin' sunday)

by lochTenderness (theseourbodies)



Series: honeybody [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant Pre-Timeskip, Coffee Shops, Fluff, Graduate Student Iwaizumi Hajime, M/M, and this is crazy, but here's my number so let's date finally, hey you've been coming in to my cafe for years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseourbodies/pseuds/lochTenderness
Summary: is it still a meet-cute if you've known each other for several years, asking for a friend.Or,  Iwaizumi has a soft crush on the owner of the cafe he's been going to since he was an undergrad; Hanamaki is a schemer, a scoundrel, and also a really great friend.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Iwaizumi Hajime, Hanamaki Takahiro & Iwaizumi Hajime
Series: honeybody [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832725
Comments: 14
Kudos: 81





	honeybody (what you doin' sunday)

**Author's Note:**

> I've only read to ~ch. 330, so obviously this is not canon-compliant post-timeskip except by very, very happy coincidence. 
> 
> Some mood music, just for you: [Oh honeybody,](https://open.spotify.com/track/3VgdLvs5lb7anIjH92uA08?si=A0VYDnqrRXqdhsgcjZKNZw)[what you doin' Sunday?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0W2DRRwiSKU)

"Order up, Iwaizumi!" 

Iwaizumi steps up to the counter, already resigned. His order, a black drip coffee in his reusable mug, had today once again mysteriously transformed into a gently steaming, frothy something that smelled too sweet even from a distance. The house mug Hanamaki had found was shaped like a particularly ugly owl, squat and gray; some enterprising soul had glued googly eyes over the ones already painted on, and the beady black dots watched Iwaizumi through scratched and dented plastic. 

"Seriously?" 

Hanamaki draped himself over the counter between them, smirking. "What's the matter, not sweet enough for you, sweetie pie?" 

"Where the hell did you even find this mug, it's ugly as shit." 

"Aw, don't be that way, man. Doesn't it look like it just knows things?" Hanamaki picks it up with both hands, staring into its lopsided, terrible little eyes. He turns it back to face Iwaizumi. "I wouldn't piss it off, if I were you." 

Iwaizumi scowls, at Hanamaki, at the mug, at life in general. 

"Oh, there's the vein. What's the matter Iwa, you mad? I go out of my way and endanger my job to get you this lovely free coffee and this is the thanks I get?" 

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath and closes his left eye against the pounding sensation that's threatening to turn into a tension headache any second now. After he was accepted into his program, everything had become a slog-- through classes, through labs, through his required hours working in the on-site clinic. There were very few things Iwaizumi was willing or able to indulge in, now-a-days, and two of them could be neatly found in one place: right here, at Week's Coffee. It wouldn't be good to do what he really wanted to, which was haul Hanamaki right over the counter and sit on him until he suffocated. Murder was probably a good way to get on the owner's bad side. 

He drags in a deep, deep breath and tries to stay calm. Normally it's nice to come by and decompress while Hanamaki has his fun but today's been bad enough. "Hanamaki I swear to god--" 

Hanamaki leans over the counter-- boldly coming right into perfect grabbing range-- and raises his eyebrows, grin soft. It's a strangely tender look on his old friend. "And what are you going to do, Iwaizumi? Tell my boss?" 

Iwaizumi takes back ever stupid thing he just thought about tenderness. Goddamn, you tell a buddy one thing in drunken confidence and then you never hear the end of it. 

"Screw you, Hanamaki," he hisses. So what if he thinks Hanamaki's boss has nice eyes, it doesn't mean he likes him or anything like that. It doesn't mean he needs help talking to the guy like he's shy around a crush. "I don't need a goddamn wingman. Give me my coffee and just let me study in peace, shithead." 

"Hanamaki." 

Speak of the fucking devil, Iwaizumi thinks, deflating. Even Hanamaki flinching so hard he smacks his elbow against the counter can bring a smile to Iwaizumi's face. 

"A-Akaashi! Sh- _it_ , _ow_ \--" 

"Akaashi, sorry." 

Akaashi inclines his head towards Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi bites his lip to keep from stammering another apology. Damn Hanamaki. Damn Hanamaki and his stupid sense of humor, Iwaizumi definitely should have gotten in on that scheme to trick Matsukawa into transferring to their university for his postgrad research. Hanamaki clearly couldn't be trusted on his own, and now he had probably finally succeeded in getting Iwaizumi blackballed from the cafe he'd been haunting since he was still an undergrad. 

"Iwaizumi-san," Akaashi greets him politely enough, and Iwaizumi manages to dig a smile up for him. 

"Hey." 

Hanamaki groans weakly, clutching his elbow. "Ugh, Boss, I think it's broken. Iwaizumi broke my wenis!" 

"Hanamaki, we've discussed this." 

Some dedicated snooping by Hanamaki early on-- snooping neither requested nor condoned by Iwaizumi, he wants to make that clear-- had revealed that despite the fact that he'd owned and operated Week's Cafe since he graduated from university, Akaashi was still a year younger than both of them. He had a business degree and a love of photography, some connection to high school volleyball that neither Hanamaki nor Iwaizumi had been able to suss out yet, and yeah, his eyes really were very nice. Iwaizumi... appreciated them. Them and the whole _thing_ that Akaashi had going on. 

"I didn't make the word up Akaashi! I swear that's what it's called, and I swear that it's shattered into a _million_ pieces." 

"Hm," says Akaashi, unconvinced. "And why is Iwaizumi-san's mug still sitting back by the coffeemaker?" 

Hanamaki-- hesitates. Iwaizumi stares at him, too shocked to feel vindicated. He's known Hanamaki for all of his adult life, and he has never, never seen any man or beast make him falter. 

"I just wanted to sweeten him up a little, that's all," Hanamaki says finally, and that's when Akaashi notices the mug, still sitting and steaming away on the countertop. 

"Ah," says Akaashi, and collects the mug with careful hands. "Hanamaki, please fill Iwaizumi-san's to-go mug and we can discuss worker's compensation for your tragic injury later." 

Iwaizumi is treated to a rare smile as Akaashi watches Hanamaki twirl off in a huff. "I thought you preferred your coffee black, Iwaizumi-san?" 

You noticed? Iwaizumi thinks but doesn't ask, feeling warmth tingle in his palms-- embarrassment, pleasure. "I really do," he assures Akaashi, who is looking vaguely concerned for Iwaizumi's potential fear of ordering what he really wants. "You take care of your coffeemakers, so the drip coffee here is the best." 

Akaashi nods in acknowledgement-- Iwaizumi watches him curl both hands around the owl mug, hugging it closer to him. 

"Thank you. And I apologize, but I cannot let Hanamaki attempt to expand your horizons with this drink; this mug isn't for use in the restaurant." 

Iwaizumi can understand why on a surface level-- it really is hideous, and not in the cute, eclectic way that most of the house mugs are. But something about the way Akaashi is holding it carefully tells him it's more than that. "Is it yours?" 

Akaashi smiles down at the cup in his hands-- his cheeks go a little pink, and Iwaizumi stares, unabashed. 

"Yes. It was a birthday present from an old friend. It's truly the ugliest thing that anyone has ever given me," Akaashi tells him, his mouth back in a familiar, neutral line. The tops of his cheeks and the tip of his nose are still faintly pink under his fading tan, though. It sets off the thin gold hoop threaded through the side of his nose very, very nicely. 

"Ha, yeah," Iwaizumi says weakly. It really is absurd, Akaashi's whole _thing._ "But clearly it's important to you. I'm sorry about Hanamaki, we got to him too late to teach him boundaries." 

Akaashi huffs, his eyes squinting a little over the rise of his cheeks-- He's laughing, Iwaizumi thinks suddenly, struck absolutely dumb. I made him laugh. 

“I understand,” Akaashi says. “Well, please enjoy your coffee. Hanamaki will be cutting you off after the second refill, per our agreement after your last round of finals.” 

Iwaizumi groans, feeling something fizz in his chest in a way that he knows is not physiologically possible. “Yeah, yeah, fine. And, uh—thanks, for the rescue. It hasn’t been a great day, and despite this refill tyranny I appreciate you looking out.” 

Akaashi takes a sip from his hideous owl mug, eyeing Iwaizumi over the rim. “Of course,” is all he says when he’s done. He glides away with a nod good bye to take an order; his hand is big enough to wrap almost all the way around the mug, Iwaizumi notices as Akaashi walks away with it still in hand. 

It takes Hanamaki three tries to get his attention after that, and Iwaizumi figures he deserves the stupid, smug smirk he gets when he finally rips his carafe out of Hanamaki’s grip and stomps away to his usual table, ignoring the heat burning in his ears. 

“Iwaizumi-san?” 

Iwaizumi turns quickly to find Akaashi leaning over the counter, braced on his hands. He wasn’t that much taller than Iwaizumi, just—leaner, longer, more graceful in every way. “Yeah?” 

“I know I’m tyrannous with regards to curbing your debilitating caffeine addiction--” he gives Iwaizumi time to grumble, his mouth bent up into a sweet smile-- “so please, let me make it up to you.” 

“Make it up to me?” 

“Let me take you to dinner after you’re finished here.” 

Iwaizumi feels his jaw go slack. Behind Akaashi’s shoulder, Hanamaki has both hands pressed to his mouth; it’s still not enough to hide his massive smile. Iwaizumi’s in his second oldest pair of track pants and a hoodie he’d grabbed off his apartment floor; he’s pretty sure it’s the same one Oikawa had confiscated to sleep in the last time he was over a month ago. He can’t remember the last time he touched an actual comb; it’s thanks to ingrained habit that he’s even wearing deodorant, but Akaashi Keiji is still standing there, lovely and ruthlessly well-packaged, asking him—to what? To dinner? On a _date?_ Holy _shit._

“Well,” Iwaizumi stammers, “well, s-sure. Sure, I guess that’s the least you could do, considering.” 

Akaashi tilts his head to the side, acknowledging. He’s smiling again, pink in the face again, pleased, Iwaizumi thinks, though he can’t say why. There's no way Iwaizumi was going to say no, surely Akaashi knew that. Surely Akaashi had realized— Oikawa had realized exactly three seconds after Iwaizumi had mentioned the café and its owner, and Iwaizumi had been in and out of this café every other day for five _years._ Surely Akaashi had figured it out even without the benefit of knowing Iwaizumi practically since birth. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, suddenly eager to be as clear as possible, just in case. “Yeah, I’d love to go out with you.” 

Hanamaki raises both his hands, palm up, and brings them together into prayer hands, face turned up and comically grateful. Iwaizumi thinks he hears a tiny cheer from the fidgety guy who always takes the table in the corner; he’s stammering quietly into his phone, probably relaying the whole scene. The associate professor with the pink hair that taught Iwaizumi’s stats class freshmen year blatantly high-fives the woman across from her; he catches them out of the corner of his eye. Iwaizumi would be more annoyed, definitely more embarrassed, if Akaashi wasn’t still smiling at him like Iwaizumi was the only thing he could see. 

“It’s a date then?” 

“Certainly, Iwaizumi-san. It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> _"Akaashi! Your old captain is so proud of you!"_
> 
> "Thank you, Bokuto-san."
> 
> _"Remember to talk about me in your victory speech at your wedding! I told you that the owl mug would be good to you! Akaashi, how am I so incredible, do you think I can see the future??"_
> 
> "I haven't even properly wooed Iwaizumi-san, Bokuto-san, please don't jinx me. Also, it is highly improbable that you were able to see the future, even unconsciously, but the owl mug was very helpful. It gave me confidence."
> 
> _"Ohhh, Akaash!!"_
> 
> "I agree, Bokuto-san."
> 
> _"Hey Akaashi, you really like him, huh?"_
> 
> "... Yes, I do. I am tentatively hopeful. But as I said before, Bokuto-san, please do not jinx me."
> 
> _"RIGHT! No jinxing, these lips are sealed! Akaashi!! Go! Win!"_
> 
> "I don't believe that's the point of a date Bokuto-san, but thank you."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [PODFIC honeybody (what you doin' sunday)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294682) by [lochTenderness (theseourbodies)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseourbodies/pseuds/lochTenderness)




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